


Internalized

by choppyVy



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: 1x06, 2x08, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Flashback, Hurt/Comfort, Jesse Manes is His Own Warning, M/M, fillers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:09:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24198013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choppyVy/pseuds/choppyVy
Summary: Fillers 2x08 (Say It Ain't So) and 1x06 (Smells Like Teen Spirit)Our queer asses all know what this is about. I mean, the title and the character list alone. Most of us have lived it. Are living it.Alex spends some time thinking about where he is at. His thoughts pulling him back to the time he and Michael thought they could have a future, together.
Relationships: Forrest Long & Alex Manes, Forrest Long/Alex Manes, Michael Guerin & Alex Manes, Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Internalized

“Heroes are sexy.”

  
Alex is not confused. Far from it.

But …, Forrest keeps surprising him. In good ways only.

And that, that Alex finds highly confusing.

‘Damn it!' If Alex has learned one thing today, 'On paper you’re perfect for me in every way, aren’t you?’ It is Alex’s last thought before Forrest leans in.

For a second Alex can do nothing but look on, frozen, as Forrest closes his eyes, keeps coming closer.

The jarring sound of a cell phone ringing nearby has Forrest blink his eyes open, just in time to see Alex is not just leaning back but actually actively scooting altogether out of their shared space.

Alex’s lips attempt to form words, but all that escapes them is a laboured breathy sound.

Forrest does not know whether to be worried, annoyed or offended on top of the definite confusion he is feeling. ‘I’d thought you were ….’

“I … I. I should get this,” Alex stammers.

Forrest nods, sighs into himself, and … watches Alex take the call, watches his date’s face turn into an irritated frown.

“He did what?” Alex licks his lips, worries them against each other in that trademark way he does not even know he has, even though everyone else cannot stop noticing.

Forrest watching on, thinking, ‘Looks like he's ... holding back something, holding himself in.’ Forrest develops an instant dislike for it.

“I understand. I’ll be right there. And … thank you for calling me, even though I’m not his emergency contact or anything.” Weeks from now Alex will think back to this moment and kick himself for ever falling for the act that is Jesse Manes. What you see is never what you get. 'Except for when he is beating the living hell out of you.'

“Everything alright?” Forrest mouths as he catches Alex’s words.

Alex nods at him, finishing the call quickly, “Yeah …, yes. I appreciate that.” Forrest’s eyes are still holding his once he hangs up. “I got to get to the hospital.”

Alex looks not too worried, so Forrest chances the reach for some more light-hearted banter, “Don’t tell me I just took your last fully functioning leg.”

Alex actually laughs.

“I’d like to see that more.”

“What?”

“Your smile. You, laughing.”

There is a shift in Alex's eyes, Forrest registers but cannot read, cannot shake the distinct feeling that these words just put more distance between them. So he decides to retry an earlier approach. Scoots closer, begins to lean in again.

Alex flinches, gets himself back to his feet, “We still on for tonight? Wild Pony?”

Smile still kind though uncertain, Forrest nods. “I’ll be there.”

“Alright, see you then.”

Alex walks away with a decidedly tight feeling in his chest and gut. And not because his dad is mixing pills and booze, going by what he has just been told.

Alex cannot tell whether it is the driving away from a great guy, Forrest, that makes his insides hurt more than usual, or the mere thought of his new destination. The person waiting there.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?”

“He’s perfect in every way. What are you doing?”

“Damn it, yes, I know, I KNOW!” ‘Michael.’

Some days talking to yourself is the healthiest thing to do.

The only thing.

Alex is not really aware of the shaking in his hands, his body, all over.

“It’s been forever. Why can’t that be enough already?”

Only it has not been, Jesse Manes is no thing of the past, no matter how much, how desperately Alex wishes for him to be, longs to believe it.

Alex sighs at himself, “Time doesn’t heal shit, apparently, when it comes to my fucked up mind.”

“I mean, I fucking know! I do know I have all this fucking trauma, I just …,” he looks up at himself in the rear view mirror, falls silent for a while.

“What am I supposed to do with that?”

Alex angrily reaches for the car radio. The heavy silence flooded with music.

“Entropy,” Alex hears Michael’s voice in his mind alongside his own. Warm and comforting. Those memories are all Alex wants, but there are so many more.

Alex has always been bad at ignoring … anything really. It is what makes for half of his pain, but also what has helped him work through so much of it, all on his own.

The other half he self-medicates for with books, online encounters, and for the biggest part “Music,” Alex whispers to himself.

Ever since that concert he had snuck out to go to with Maria and Liz, music had been his sanity’s saviour, then … he had found Michael, guitar in hand, and so much more had changed. For the better. And then … for much worse.

“I should have kept you safe from him. But I was a selfish idiot and you got hurt, we … we got hurt. I failed. I failed you. I didn’t keep you safe. All because I just wanted … I just wanted to be happy. You made me forget I couldn’t be. Not in that house. I am the reason you got hurt. I …, I hurt you, over and over. A REAL Manes man.”

If you are not willing to keep hurting yourself, cut or burn, do excessive amounts of drugs, become an alcoholic, your options grow limited in daily running from your own insides.

Alex has never been the type to try any of those, instead he had joined the army in an attempt to make himself stronger than his father ever believed he could be, smarter.

Outrunning Jesse Manes was never something Alex could build up belief in. Had had to spend too many years by far at the mercy of the man, unable to get away.

Outsmarting Jesse Manes is what Alex is working on, restless, every day.

He had wished and hoped and worked on making it all true.

Returning to Roswell only to learn that his insides are as fucked up a place as ever. How much of a sway his father so easily still holds over him.

Alex is working on shaking it.

But forever full to the brim with years of vicious beatings and broken bones, and destroyed possessions, lost people … it all echoes so strong in him, they all feel brand new every time they hit Alex. Not much of an active contribution at all from his father needed at this point to make that happen.

A disapproving glance, half a sentence that hits just right. A memory conjured, a pain triggered.

  
We all long to believe that we make our own choices, our own destiny and happiness. When plenty of times our past makes those for or against us, uncaring whether we approve or dismay.

The moment Forrest had leaned in, reflex taking over, muscle memory setting in, Alex did what he did.

And that damn voice right in his ear.

Too loud.

Too damn clear, still.

THIS ENDS NOW!

Often enough, it just starts with the sound of a door … closing.

Most days any sound signalling he is not hidden away from prying eyes will do. The honking of a horn, a car door falling shut, a voice, ‘ … that voice.’ Alex finds himself shuddering. Jumpy. He is still struggling to resettle in his body. Regularly jolts out of it.

People do notice.

They also do believe that these are marks war has left on Alex’s soul.

Because they want to.

Alex knows that the only two people who had ever cared enough to look, try and help, Jim Valenti and Mimi DeLuca are gone, or good as, these days. He cannot deal with what this makes him feel. How much more scared on bad days, running into his father somewhere around town. His mind pulling him back into his teenage body. He hates how much it can help to feel part of him gone, a prosthesis in its place.

"Like ..., I know he can't get to me just like that anymore. Hit me all he likes, all he thinks necessary. To change me. He is still reaching me, so easy, in so many ways."

  
Hands on the steering-wheel, Alex’s eyes fall to a deep faded scar on his lower left arm, one of the first Jesse Manes had ever left on him, trying to beat his feelings out of him, his love.

Layered over it is another, a much later addition. ‘Michael.’

HOW DARE YOU?

UNDER MY ROOF.

EVERYTHING YOU DO …EVERYTHING.

I WILL NOT BE HUMILIATED.

Every word of his father’s that had been uttered that day remains scorched into Alex’s memory.

_It goes against every instinct in Alex’s body. Still he grabs his father and pulls as hard as he can. “Michael, run! RUN!”_

  
_Michael turns, head dazed and heavy with pain, nevertheless he sees Jesse Manes turn on Alex, hammer still in hand. He opens his mouth to protest, when he sees Alex mouth to him, ‘Please! Michael! Please!’_

  
_Michael only has time to shake his head no, hears a hammer cluttering to the floor, then Jesse Manes is on him again, knocking him to the ground, this time with bare fists. “You will never put your disgusting hands on him again!” Jesse Manes spits at Michael before turning on Alex._

_Alex knows what is coming, he always knows. The only question there is, has been for years, ‘How much worse is this time going to be?’_

_Alex can barely see through his tears, desperately tries to blink them away to find Michael’s eyes, ‘Michael,’ he is Alex’s only thought, as the first punch from his father pushes all air out of Alex’s lungs._

_Alex knows it will be a week before he will be able to hold a note again, breathe without pain shooting down into his chest._

_“Alex!”_

_Michael’s desperate shout has Jesse Manes turn again, grab Michael, and drag him out of the shed. He pushes him to the ground._

  
_He is left there to watch in horror as the door closes, a lock clicks into place._

_"Alex!"_

_Michael has no idea how long it takes him to push past the shaking and regain some form of control over his limbs._

_Even in foster care it has been years that he has felt this helpless._

_He cannot stay and he cannot leave._

_So he pushes down on the pain, hides away until he hears the shed’s door open and close again, hears a different lock pushed into place. Waits the minutes more he can make himself before he rushes to the door, own pain again blinding, calls out as loud as he dares, “Alex? Alex. Are you okay?”_

_There is a scrambling and a sobbing sound from inside, like someone is desperately trying to get back on their feet, failing._

_The thump he hears, Alex’s voice still missing, has him throw all caution into the wind._

_Michael pools all power he can gather, … and uses his mind to open the lock._

_His eyes take a frustrating moment to adjust to the shadows of the shed as he rushes in._

_He drops to his knees by Alex’s side, the other boy curled up on himself on the wooden floor, clutching his stomach tight._

_Michael barely dares to reach for Alex, fingers eventually caressing hair softly._

_To see, to feel Alex flinch at the touch, chokes Michael’s hope hard. “It’s me, Alex. Michael. It’s me. I’m here. I’m still here, Alex.”_

_Eyes, bloodshot fear in them, nothing but fear, meet Michael’s. Open lips trembling Alex reaches for words._

_Michael does his best to steady his gaze, do away with his own fears, even though he cannot help tears freely flowing again. Tears of anger and pain, his own, Alex’s._

_Alex's hands and forearms cut up from where he must have used them to try and ward of some object's blows, scramble for purchase against the floorboards. When Alex manages to sit up Michael can instantly tell why he had not tried before. The cry he lets out tells Michael all he needs to know, “That bastard!” Jesse Manes knows where, how, to hurt people without anyone else noticing. Michael knows, no way is this the first time that man has done this to Alex._

_“"Y-, y- ...,you ha- to lea- -ve,” Alex croaks out._

_“He choked you,” Michael sobs out at the realization of Alex’s voice being almost gone._

_“H- have to l-. Pl-. Michael. ... ple-” Alex presses from his throat._

_“I can’t leave you here!”_

_Alex coughs, tries to clear his throat, winces at the stinging, choking pain but manages to rasp, “I ... can’t watch him hurt you eve- mo-.” Alex glances at Michael’s mangled hand, “You need help. Mo- than I d- ... do.”_

_“_ _No!”_

_“Mich- …,” Alex voice gives fully out._

_“I can’t. I can’t.” Michael shakes his head as realization dawns already. It does not matter that he wants to know none of it. Alex's pleading gaze telling him he cannot bare for it to get worse. Alex acting in the only way he has ever known to prevent it. Obey orders.  
_

_Alex mouths, voiceless, breathless, half-choking again, “Go. Gonna be okay.”_

_Michael helps Alex get to the bed, lie down, before he stumbles back out of the shed, puts the lock back in place, before staggering over to some bushes, throwing up into them forcefully._

_Michael’s tears remain a steady stream until high on acetone he finally in his truck is pulled past his pain into some sleep._

_Worse than the pain all over his body ever gets, is the pain of the days of helplessly waiting for any sign of life from Alex._

_It is the middle of the fourth night, when Michael jolts awake as a body settles down next to his in the bed of his truck._

_Michael has no idea how he found him. And it does not matter._

_“You found me.”_

_Alex can barely hold his eyelids open, let alone speak. Tears welling up in Alex’s exhausted gaze._

_Michael pulls Alex closer, under the blankets, out of the cold into the warmth. Both afraid, too afraid to hold on to bodies broken. Aching. All the damage done planted deep._

_Michael holds Alex’s eyes for as long as he can, as they fall with exhaustion Michael hums a quiet tune, a gentle reminder._

_Waking up with each other is new, could be pleasant, but the pain seeps into it, cuts rough._

_Michael places a kiss to Alex’s forehead. Alex bursts into tears. Overwhelmed. Exhaustion, fear, anger, desperation poisoning._

_“He locked me up there. Hates me,” Alex mouths. “I’m weak. I’m gay.”_

_“You have love. You’re not weak. You’re not any of the horrible things he says!”_

_“Still trying to beat it out of me,” Alex dissolves into sobs that clearly cause him new pain as they make their way through his body. “Four days. That hammer. Your … your blood, bone.”_

_“You’re here now. We’re here now.” Michael cannot hold back any longer, reaches, holds on._

_Michael’s arms around him, supporting, loving, kind, feel like what Alex imagines home should feel like._

_Not that either of them would know._

The drive back to town feels long, maybe only because Alex feels so damn alone with his thoughts. Much harder to run from.

  
“Four days and nights, locked in that shed.”

“Four days and nights of hoping and hoping you had made it away. He was not coming after you.”

“Two weeks living with you in the bed of your truck. We were both still in pain, in shock. Still, I never felt that safe again as I had then. With you.”

“I was even too afraid to go back, even just for a change of clothes, to that place others kept calling my home.”

“I stole all your worn clothes from you all the time,” Alex blurts out to no one but himself, with a fond smile hushing over his features, “and you took some of Max’s for the both of us.”

“I loved smelling like you, like rain.”

“My grandmother used to tell me stories about the rain, the people who washed into town with it. I wonder what she really meant, really knew.”

“She was the last person to stand between me and his rage, his irrational obsession with me and my sexuality.”

If anything, growing older, that hate has become less transparent to Alex. “I just don’t …, I can’t …. Damn it, why does he care? Why did he ever?” ‘His voice is still so damn loud.’ Some things Alex still cannot admit out loud.

"Michael, you never needed me to say anything out loud. You just, we just knew."

"Damn cosmic connection! We should've talked more, maybe then .... Maybe we could, we'd still ...."

Alex stares out the windshield. Watches the town drawing closer again. 

"What the fuck am I going to tell Forrest?"

Alex is waiting. Waiting for his own to be the voice he can hear more clearly than all others.

When that happens, he will … lean in.

To whom he does not know, not yet, not today.

The one voice he wants to hear more than any other, more than his own, and maybe that is part of the problem, is growing quieter and quitter these days. “Michael.”

Jesse Manes turned back up to eardrum splitting volume.

**Author's Note:**

> Being haunted is never an easy feeling to shake, especially as long as your ghost is alive and well and keeps worming its way back into your life. It's also not easy when that ghost is finally gone, just ... different.  
> But really that is not even the story here, that would be a sequel or something. Writing this just made me think about what I'm working through, still, and how it takes and takes, and you try and do your best with where you're at each day.  
> *insert emotionally charged sound here* I always fall for characters for the pain we share.


End file.
